And he walked out.
The latch clicked, and with it went the last familiar sound of their life together.
Tessa stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door, unable to make her body move.
Then she crossed the apartment on instinct and locked it.
Deadbolt. Chain. Click. Click.
The second the last lock turned, something in her cracked.
Tessa went to the bedroom and threw herself face-down on the bed, boots still on, jacket still half-zipped, the pillow catching the sound she couldn’t stop—raw and broken and humiliating.
Not because she wanted him back.
Because she was tired.
Because she’d given everything she had to Sylva—every hour, every ounce of focus, every sharp edge of her mind—and she’d come home hoping for one soft place to land.
Instead, she’d walked straight into another fight she hadn’t asked for.
Tallulahhopped up beside her a moment later, silent as smoke. The cat padded across the comforter and pressed her warm body against Tessa’s ribs, rubbing her face against Tessa’s arm like she was trying to stitch her back together.
Tessa curled her fingers into the blanket, breathing hard.
“I’m fine,” she whispered into the pillow, the words coming out ragged. “I’m always fine.”
But her voice broke on the last word.
She turned her face, eyes wet, staring at the dim ceiling.
It always went like this.
Men loved the idea of her badge—until it made them feel small.
She’d never looked at Kyle and seen inferior.
Was this how it would always go?
The thought landed heavy—cold as mountain air.
If that was the life she got… fine.
But this was the last time she would let a man make her feel like her career didn’t matter.
The last time she’d apologize for saving someone else.
Tallulah bumped her forehead against Tessa’s shoulder again, insistent.
Tessa let out a shaky breath and managed the smallest smile.
“Yeah,” she murmured, voice low but steadier. “It’s just us.”
One Week Later — Friday Before Dawn
The week crawled by on muscle memory and caffeine—meetings, reports, cold hellos in the hallway, anything to keep her from thinking.
Just before dawn on Friday, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Once. Twice.
